


None But You

by TheGreatSporkWielder



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Angst, Drunk Kissing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatSporkWielder/pseuds/TheGreatSporkWielder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He silently watches her approach, clenching his jaw to keep himself from saying something stupid, like how breathtakingly captivating she looks in that dress she's wearing or that he's still hopelessly, madly in love with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	None But You

**Author's Note:**

> Don't quite know where this came from. More homework avoidance, most likely.
> 
> This ficlet has no connection to my fic "Slowly Counting Down the Days," despite the fact that they both take place at Pemberley.

 

_Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you._

_~Persuasion, Chapter 23_

* * *

 

Darcy is up late, reading over some last-minute reports for Fitz, who is back in San Francisco, when he hears Lizzie return from her evening out with some friends she'd made at work. There's a low murmur as she greets Henry and the butler takes her coat, and Darcy inwardly curses himself for the way his eyes dart to the open office door in hopes of catching a glimpse of her as she makes her way up the stairs to her room.

 

He'd offered Lizzie a room at Pemberley while she was shadowing at his company, arguing that it was completely illogical of her to spend her money renting somewhere when he had more than enough room. She'd reluctantly agreed, and he'd set her up in a room as far away from his own as he could so as to give her as much space as possible.

 

He hasn't seen much of her outside of work, though he is secretly pleased to note that she's been spending quite a lot of time getting to know Gigi.

 

To his surprise, she pokes her head in the door, one hand gripping the door frame. "Hey there, Darcy," she says, in as cheerful a voice as he's ever heard from her.

 

"Hello," he says, setting aside his paperwork, and when he doesn't speak further, she uses her hand to swing herself into the room, walking a bit unsteadily towards him. He silently watches her approach, clenching his jaw to keep himself from saying something stupid, like how breathtakingly captivating she looks in that dress she's wearing or that he's still hopelessly, madly in love with her.

 

He jumps, startled out of his thoughts, as Lizzie taps his nose with one finger.

 

"Y'know," Lizzie says, "you're actually pretty cute."

 

"Are you...intoxicated?" Darcy asks hesitantly, looking nervously down at Lizzie's other hand as it traces along the veins in his wrist.

 

"Maybe just a little," she replies in his ear, and he swallows hard at the feel of her warm breath on his skin and the slight brush of her hair against his cheek.

 

"You are," he counters. "You should probably sit down."

 

"Okay," she breathes and, to his shock, she plops down in his lap, one leg on either side of his. Darcy freezes, clutching the arms of the chair with both hands to keep himself from grabbing onto her and yanking her closer.

 

"That's not quite what I meant," he begins, but she shushes him with one finger pressed to his mouth, and he stops talking. He mutely looks up at her, hoping that she doesn't see the ridiculous longing shining out of his eyes.

 

She purses her lips thoughtfully, absently tracing the outline of his lips. "It's too bad you don't love me anymore," she muses, trailing her fingers along the line of his jaw and down his neck.

 

"What...what makes you think I don't?" he chokes out, and he can't keep himself from tilting his head back to allow her more access.

 

She lets out a derisive snort and tosses her head, and he watches with the sort of resigned adoration that overwhelms his heart whenever he sees her do _anything_ as her lovely auburn hair swings around her shoulders. "Well, for one thing," she points out, "I haven't seen you other than at work since I got here, and people don't usually go out of their way to avoid someone they're in love with."

 

"Perhaps I was giving you space," he replies quietly. "Perhaps I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable, or to feel pressured or obligated to spend time with me."

 

Lizzie raises a skeptical brow. "Also, I rejected you pretty damn hard, and hundreds of thousands of people saw it. What kind of guy _stays_ in love with a girl after she tells him she hates his guts?"

 

Without waiting for him to answer, she leans down and kisses him, and even though he can taste the sharp bite of alcohol on her tongue, this first kiss is even sweeter than he'd imagined it would be. He grips the arms of his chair so tightly he's sure he's going to have to have the upholstery repaired tomorrow, but as his eyes slide shut of their own volition, he softens his mouth under hers, pouring every ounce of devotion he can muster into the kiss. She will most likely not remember this tomorrow, but for tonight, he has no intention of leaving her in doubt about his feelings.

 

Lizzie tangles her hands in his hair as the kiss deepens, and he can't stop himself from reaching up to reciprocate, cupping one hand along the back of her head, her soft hair slipping through his fingers, his other hand coming to rest gently along the curve of her waist.

 

She pulls away slightly, and he can feel her surprised exhale ghosting over his face. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?" she asks, and the corners of his lips curl up in amusement at the pleased wonder in her voice.

 

"All part of the Darcybot programming," he murmurs, sliding his hand down from her crown to curl around her neck.

 

"Ugh," she groans, pressing her forehead to his. "You know, a nice guy wouldn't have watched my videos."

 

"You told me to," he objects, gently running the edge of his thumb along the soft skin of her jaw. "And a nice girl wouldn't denigrate a man she barely knows _by name_ to the entire Internet without giving him the opportunity to defend himself against her allegations."

 

She doesn't answer, but instead leans down to kiss him again, and this time he can sense something like desperation behind the kiss. This time, he's the one who pulls away. "What's the matter?" he asks. "I've never seen you like this before."

 

She sighs heavily and sits back on his knees, running one hand through her mussed hair. "I just..." she slides off his lap and slumps onto the arm of his chair. "I just wanted to forget for a while."

 

"Forget what?" he asks gently.

 

"That my family has tons of issues. That I'm so far in debt that I'll still be paying it off when my grandkids are grown. That you hate me."

 

"Lizzie," he says urgently, reaching out with one hand to turn her face back towards his. "I could _never_ hate you." Her beautiful eyes, pupils dilated by the copious amounts of alcohol in her system, are wide and aching in their disbelief, and he can't bear the thought of this woman, who holds his heart so completely and irrevocably in her hands, contemplating even for a moment that he thinks ill of her, so against his better judgment (which always seems to falter when Lizzie is involved) he loops his arm around her waist and drags her back across his knees, curling his hand into her hair as he bends down and covers her mouth with his.

 

She makes a surprised little noise in the back of her throat before her hands slide up his chest to tangle in his hair again. When they break apart to breathe, she gasps, "Maybe not right now, but you'll hate me tomorrow."

 

"I'm not the one with the judgment-impairing drug in my system," he replies, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "If anything, _you'll_ hate _me_ in the morning."

 

"I don't think so," she says, leaning her head against his shoulder and tucking her nose into his neck. "I don't think I can hate you anymore; you smell so good."

 

He chuckles. "If only I'd know that sooner; I would've given you an occasion to sniff me long before now."

 

"Stop laughing at me," she pouts, and when she starts snuggling into him, he recalls with a pang that she'd never do this if she was sober, and he knows it's time she went to sleep.

 

"Come on," he says, nudging her to her feet. She protests half-heartedly as he wraps one arm around her waist and guides her down the hall to a first-floor guest room.

 

"Thanks," she says, and she loosely grips his elbow to prevent him from leaving. "You know, maybe you're not so horrible after all, Darcy."

 

The corner of his mouth turns up in a rueful smile. "I suppose I can't hope for more than that," he says, gently removing her hand from his arm. "Good night, Lizzie."

 

She gives him a small smile in return and slips inside the room, softly shutting the door behind her.

 

Darcy takes a slow, deep breath before walking back towards his office, making sure to stop and let Henry know to have aspirin ready for when Miss Bennet awakens the next morning.  

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [To Understand Her Own Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/606788) by [aeternamente](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeternamente/pseuds/aeternamente)




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